Revolution is an open measurement of strength
between social forces in a struggle for power. The State is not an end in itself. It is
only a machine in the hands of the dominating social forces. Like every machine it has its
motor, transmitting and executive mechanism. The driving force of the State is class
interest; its motor mechanism is agitation, the press, church and school propaganda,
parties, street meetings, petitions and revolts. The transmitting mechanism is the
legislative organization of caste, dynastic, estate or class interests represented as the
will of God (absolutism) or the will of the nation (parliamentarism). Finally, the
executive mechanism is the administration, with its police, the courts, with their
prisons, and the army.

The State is not an end in itself, but is a tremendous means for organizing,
disorganizing and reorganizing social relations. It can be a powerful lever for revolution
or a tool for organized stagnation, depending on the hands that control it.

Every political party worthy of the name strives to capture political power and thus
place the State at the service of the class whose interests it expresses. The
Social-Democrats, being the party of the proletariat, naturally strive for the political
domination of the working class.

The proletariat grows and becomes stronger with the growth of capitalism. In this sense
the development of capitalism is also the development of the proletariat towards
dictatorship. But the day and the hour when power will pass into the hands of the working
class depends directly not upon the level attained by the productive forces but upon
relations in the class struggle, upon the international situation, and, finally, upon a
number of subjective factors: the traditions, the initiative and the readiness to fight of
the workers.

It is possible for the workers to come to power in an economically backward country
sooner than in an advanced country. In 1871 the workers deliberately took power in their
hands in petty-bourgeois Paristrue, for only two months, but in the big-capitalist
centres of Britain or the United States the workers have never held power for so much as
an hour. To imagine that the dictatorship of the proletariat is in some way automatically
dependent on the technical development and resources of a country is a prejudice of
'economic' materialism simplified to absurdity. This point of view has nothing in common
with Marxism.

In our view, the Russian revolution will create conditions in which power can pass into
the hands of the workersand in the event of the victory of the revolution it must do
sobefore the politicians of bourgeois liberalism get the chance to display
to the full their talent for governing.

Summing up the revolution and counter-revolution of 1848-49 in the American newspaper The
Tribune, Marx wrote:

'The working class in Germany is, in its social and political
development, as far behind that of England and France as the German bourgeoisie is behind
the bourgeoisie of those countries. Like master, like man. The evolution of the conditions
of existence for a numerous, strong, concentrated and intelligent proletarian class goes
hand in hand with the development of the conditions of existence for a numerous, wealthy,
concentrated and powerful middle class. The working-class movement itself never is
independent, never is of an exclusively proletarian character until all the different
factions of the middle class, and particularly its most progressive faction, the large
manufacturers, have conquered political power, and remodeled the State according to their
wants. It is then that the inevitable conflict between the employer and the employed
becomes imminent, and cannot be adjourned any longer.. .'

This quotation is probably familiar to the reader, for it has been considerably abused
by the textual Marxists in recent times. It has been brought forward as an irrefutable
argument against the idea of a working class government in Russia. 'Like master, like
man.' If the capitalist bourgeoisie is not strong enough to take power, they argue, then
it is still less possible to establish a workers' democracy, i.e., the political
domination of the proletariat.

Marxism is above all a method of analysisnot analysis of texts, but analysis of
social relations. Is it true that, in Russia, the weakness of capitalist liberalism
inevitably means the weakness of the labour movement? Is it true, for Russia, that there
cannot be an independent labour movement until the bourgeoisie has conquered power? It is
sufficient merely to put these questions to see what a hopeless formalism lies concealed
beneath the attempt to convert an historically-relative remark of Marx's into a
supra-historical axiom.

During the period of the industrial boom, the development of factory industry in Russia
bore an 'American' character; but in its actual dimensions capitalist industry in Russia
is an infant compared with the industry of the United States. Five million persons16.6
per cent of the economically occupied populationare engaged in manufacturing
industry in Russia; for the U.S.A. the corresponding figures would be six million and 22.2
per cent. These figures still tell us comparatively little, but they become eloquent if we
recall that the population of Russia is nearly twice that of the U.S.A. But in order to
appreciate the actual dimensions of Russian and American industry it should be observed
that in 1900 the American factories and large workshops turned out goods for sale to the
amount of 25 milliard roubles, while in the same period the Russian factories turned out
goods to the value of less than two and a half milliard roubles.

There is no doubt that the numbers, the concentration, the culture and the political
importance of the industrial proletariat depend on the extent to which capitalist industry
is developed. But this dependence is not direct. Between the productive forces of a
country and the political strength of its classes there cut across at any given moment
various social and political factors of a national and international character, and these
displace and even sometimes completely alter the political expression of economic
relations. In spite of the fact that the productive forces of the United States are ten
times as great as those of Russia, nevertheless the political role of the Russian
proletariat, its influence on the politics of its own country and the possibility of its
influencing the politics of the world in the near future are incomparably greater than in
the case of the proletariat of the United States.

Kautsky, in his recent book on the American proletariat, points out that there is no
direct relation between the political power of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, on the
one hand, and the level of capitalist development on the other. 'Two states exist' he
says, 'diametrically contrasted one with the other. In one of them there is developed
inordinately, i.e., out of proportion to the level of the development of the capitalist
mode of production, one of the elements of the latter, and in the other, another of these
elements. In one stateAmericait is the capitalist class, while in Russia it is
the proletariat. In no other country than America is there so much basis for speaking of
the dictatorship of capital, while the militant proletariat has nowhere acquired such
importance as in Russia. This importance must and undoubtedly will increase, because this
country only recently began to take a part in the modern class struggle, and has only
recently provided a certain amount of elbow room for it.' Pointing out that Germany, to a
certain extent, may learn its future from Russia, Kautsky continues: 'It is indeed most
extraordinary that the Russian proletariat should be showing us our future, in so far as
this is expressed not in the extent of the development of capital, but in the protest of
the working class. The fact that this Russia is the most backward of the large states of
the capitalist world would appear', observes Kautsky, 'to contradict the materialist
conception of history, according to which economic development is the basis of political
development; but really', he goes on to say, 'this only contradicts the materialist
conception of history as it is depicted by our opponents and critics, who regard it not as
a method of investigation but merely as a ready-made stereotype.' We
particularly recommend these lines to our Russian Marxists, who replace independent
analysis of social relations by deductions from texts, selected to serve every occasion in
life. Nobody compromises Marxism so much as these self-styled Marxists.

Thus, according to Kautsky, Russia stands on an economically low level of capitalist
development, politically it has an insignificant capitalist bourgeoisie and a powerful
revolutionary proletariat. This results in the fact that 'struggle for the interests of all
Russia has fallen to the lot of the only now-existing strong class in the country
-- the industrial proletariat. For this reason the industrial proletariat has tremendous
political importance, and for this reason the struggle for the emancipation of Russia from
the incubus of absolutism which is stifling it has become converted into a single
combat between absolutism and the industrial proletariat, a single combat in which
the peasants may render considerable support but cannot play a leading role.

Does not all this give us reason to conclude that the Russian 'man' will take power
sooner than his 'master'?

There can be two forms of political optimism. We can exaggerate our strength and
advantages in a revolutionary situation and undertake tasks which are not justified by the
given correlation of forces. On the other hand, we may optimistically set a limit to our
revolutionary tasksbeyond which, however, we shall inevitably be driven by the logic
of our position.

It is possible to limit the scope of all the questions of the revolution by asserting
that our revolution is bourgeois in its objective aims and therefore in its
inevitable results, closing our eyes to the fact that the chief actor in this bourgeois
revolution is the proletariat, which is being impelled towards power by the entire course
of the revolution.

We may reassure ourselves that in the framework of a bourgeois revolution the political
domination of the proletariat will only be a passing episode, forgetting that once the
proletariat has taken power in its hands it will not give it up without a desperate
resistance, until it is torn from its hands by armed force.

We may reassure ourselves that the social conditions of Russia are still not ripe for a
socialist economy, without considering that the proletariat, on taking power, must, by the
very logic of its position, inevitably be urged toward the introduction of state
management of industry. The general sociological term bourgeois revolution by no
means solves the politico-tactical problems, contradictions and difficulties which the
mechanics of a given bourgeois revolution throw up.

Within the framework of the bourgeois revolution at the end of the eighteenth century,
the objective task of which was to establish the domination of capital, the dictatorship
of the sansculottes was found to be possible. This dictatorship was not simply a
passing episode, it left its impress upon the entire ensuing century, and this in spite of
the fact that it was very quickly shattered against the enclosing barriers of the
bourgeois revolution. In the revolution at the beginning of the twentieth century, the
direct objective tasks of which are also bourgeois, there emerges as a near prospect the
inevitable, or at least the probable, political domination of the proletariat. The
proletariat itself will see to it that this domination does not become a mere passing
'episode', as some realist philistines hope. But we can even now ask ourselves: is it
inevitable that the proletarian dictatorship should be shattered against the barriers of
the bourgeois revolution, or is it possible that in the given world-historical
conditions, it may discover before it the prospect of victory on breaking through these
barriers? Here we are confronted by questions of tactics: should we consciously work
towards a working-class government in proportion as the development of the revolution
brings this stage nearer, or must we at that moment regard political power as a misfortune
which the bourgeois revolution is ready to thrust upon the workers, and which it would be
better to avoid?

Ought we to apply to ourselves the words of the 'realist' politician Vollmar in
connection with the Communards of 1871: 'Instead of taking power they would have done
better to go to sleep'.. .?